The Baker's Son
by shelbyml
Summary: I thought the odds would be in my favor and in her's as well. This is Suzanne Collins' Hunger Games from Peeta's point of veiw.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is my first fanfiction. I hope that it's at the least satisfactory. I'm very open to constructive criticism. Please feel free to review. Let me know if I should keep going with the story. Thank you and enjoy!**

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><p><em>Chapter 1- <em>

__ It was still dark out when I heard my mother calling for me and my brother, Dylan. Her voice is cruel and urgent. We both know to do exactly what Mother says, and we both know to do it exactly when she tells us to. She's never been much of a loving mother. Most of my memories are of her yelling and beating me and my two brothers whenever we stepped out of line even the slightest. I cannot say I hate her. She is my mother of course. Her and my father have done all they can to keep me and my brothers from starving like children do in the poorest part of District 12, the Seam. Even though we eat stale bread and old meat, we still live a pretty comfortable life.

I am used to waking up early to start baking, but today we had to wake up earlier than normal. Today was reaping day. Most workers have this_holiday_ off, like my brother Ray, who works in the mines. The bakery however is where all those people will be coming to buy bread for the their celebration dinners after the reaping. Reaping day is when Effie Trinket, a Capitol woman, draws out the names of one boy and one girl between the ages of twelve and eighteen to participate in the Hunger Games. Once a child turns twelve their name is entered into the drawing once; then when the child turns thirteen his or her name is entered twice, and so on and so forth until they turn eighteen in which their name is entered seven times. Unless of course they are starving. In that case, a child can enter their name in an additional time to receive a year's supply of grain and oil for one person. They are allowed to do this for every member of their household. I am one of the lucky ones. I have never had to submit my name more than what is required of me. So this year, my name is in the drawing five times.

District 12 is the last district of Panem. Now the country of Panem rose out of the ashes of what was once known as North American, or that is what my school teaches anyway. Panem is ruled by one city called the Capitol. In the beginning there were thirteen districts instead of twelve, but the country went through what is called the Dark Days. The Dark Days is when the thirteen districts rebelled against the Capitol. They do not tell us much about the rebellion in school, but everyone knows that the Capitol completely destroyed District 13 to stop the rebellion. We've all seen the footage of the ruins on television. After the fighting had stopped and the Capitol had regained control of Panem, the Capitol formed new laws called the Treaty of Treason. From those laws came the Hunger Games. One boy and one girl from each remaining district, known as tributes, are thrown into an outdoor arena and are taped and broadcast live throughout the country as they fight to the death. The last tribute standing is the winner of the Hunger Games for that year. It is a disgusting thought: the children of Panem are lined up and are pigs waiting for slaughter. Horrid. It is the Capitols way of reminding us about the Dark Days, and it is also their way of telling the districts that they have complete control.

I pull my apron on quickly as I make my way downstairs. I can already feel the warmth of the ovens on my face as I reach the bottom.

"What took you so long, boy?" Mother said harshly, "and where is your brother?" Her eyes pierced daggers into mine as I shrugged. "Peeta Mellark, you better go make yourself useful right now." He voice never seems to be softer than a shout when she speaks to me. I am so used to it now that I don't even flinch anymore.

I walked into the back and I saw my father mix the ingredients for the bread dough.

"Morning, Dad." He gives me a nod of recognition and continues what he is doing. I take after my father more than either of my brothers ever did. I sincerely enjoy baking. Dylan always goes as slow as he can to avoid any real work, and when Ray still worked in the bakery he would rush through everything, and he would sometimes leave bread still very doughy in the middle of the loaf. Baking is a way for my mind to clear itself; it's an art form that lets me express my talents.

"Peeta, could you decorate cakes today. I can handle the bread and rolls. The cakes you decorate always seem to sell better than the ones me or your mother decorate." My fathers voice is much more gentle than my mothers. He hardly talks, but when he does it's always soft. I look up from the pans I was fumbling with, and he nods in the directions of some cakes he's laid out on a different counter. I leave the pans as I walk towards the cakes. I begin frosting the cakes simply at first so I have a frosting base to start from. Then I continue to decorate them with different dyes and designs. My father walks over the the oven where there is a loaf of fine bread baking, almost done. He picks it out with his hands. They don't feel the heat of the bread anymore. As he is wrapping wax paper around the bread, I look out the back window and see the reason he is preparing the bread. A head of straight black hair is waiting outside the back door. It is Gale Hawthorne. He is the boy from the Seam that all the girls at school talk so longingly about. He is two years my senior, and I envy him. Not because of all the girls who are after him, but because of the one girl he is after. Katniss Everdeen. Her and Gale are hunting partners. They disappear under the fence that surrounds District 12 and into the Meadow. Hunting is illegal in District 12, but if they didn't hunt the Peacekeepers that guarded District 12 would be forced to eat the less appealing, Capitol sent food that the rest of the district had to buy. Katniss and Gale sometimes trade my father squirrels they've killed for bread. Father has a fondness for the meat.

Katniss is the same age as me, sixteen. She is also the head of her household after her father died in a mine explosion. She takes responsibility for her younger sister Primrose, Prime for short, and her mother. Even with all of that stress she somehow is well kept together. She never shows weakness, and she's the most independent girl I know of. She's never noticed me; I mean how can she when she has Gale. Even after our first and only interaction, I am still invisible to her.

One rainy evening my mother caught a skinny eleven year old girl rummaging through our garbage cans. She was looking for food, and she would have if the cans had not just been emptied moments before. I recognized her face in the glow of the light that shone outside our window. It was Katniss. I heard my mother open the back door and begin to yell at the poor girl. I stood behind my mother, examining the girl I had been curious about since the first day of school when she sang. It wasn't until later I realized that my curiosity was more than just that. It was love. Katniss was barely a girl. Her cheeks were sunken in. Her body was so thin that even through the layers of clothes you could see her bony knees and elbows. The color of her face was gone, and she was soaked. She just stood there taking my mothers harsh words, and when my mother closed the door I saw Katniss run to the side of the pig pen and slump over. Before I could even think about it I was pushing two large loafs into the flames of the the oven. They began to burn immediately. Mother saw this and hit me on the cheek with the back side of her hand. She threw me outside with the loafs and ordered me to feed them to the old pig that we had. I remember having to hold in tears as I threw the bread to the skinny girl. I turned around quickly so she wouldn't see me start to cry. My cheek bone burned with pain, and I went back inside.

From inside I saw Katniss stuff the bread into her shirt and run off. The next day at school she still looked too thin, but the color in her face had returned. We made eye contact briefly. She examined my bruised face, and I was filled with hope that she might talk to me. Instead she broke our eye contact by looking down. I saw her pick a dandelion, and for a brief moment I saw something in her eyes. It was hope. Then she went on her way to gather her sister, Prim, from her class without talking to me.

My father came back inside with a squirrel in his hand.

"Don't tell your mother, son." he said in almost a whisper. I chuckled a bit and replied.

"I never do, Dad, no need to worry." I continued to decorate. My mind lost in the colors. When I finished the last cake I looked up and saw that the bakery was already full of people, and my mother needed help taking orders and passing out bread. I moved up front and stayed there until eleven thirty when the shop slowed down. I walked into the back and began to help Father clean up a bit. The store closed at twelve, and then it was time for the family to get ready to meet in the town square for the reaping. I took a lukewarm bath. I soaked my broad shoulders and looked at me reflection in the water. My blue eyes stared back, and I began to feel nervous about the reaping. There were thousands of slips of paper in the drawing and only five had my name on it. I am not worried about myself, and I'm not even worried about Dylan who has seven pieces of paper with his name on it in the drawing. I am worried about Katniss. Surely she's had to submit her name more than several times for the year's supply of grain and oil. Not only for herself, but for her family as well. I put my face in my hands as I force the thought of Katniss going into the games out of my head.

My heart was in my throat as I got out of the bath and dried off. I wiped my forming tears out of my eyes before dressing into a white button up shirt and brown slacks. I messed around with my blond hair that fell into waves on my forehead. I gave up after a few minutes and met my family at the door. It was one and we had to leave the house now to make it to the reaping by two. Everyone in the district had to attend the reaping unless you were dying. Once we got to the crowd my mother signed the family in. Signing in was a way for the Capitol to keep track of everyone in the district. We were separated after that. Ray, my mother, and my father were shuffled to the sides of the roped off area, and Dylan and I were herded into the roped off areas designated for potential tributes. One side of the roped off area was for the girls and the other side was assigned to the boys. Then within those crowds we were separated further by age. Youngest in the back and the oldest in the front. Dylan took his place in the front, and I stood by some guys I knew from school. We gave quick hello's, but we fell silent quickly. Reaping day wasn't somthing cheerful. Until of course the tributes have be chosen. In which case the families that have been spared having to sacrifice their children to the games went home and feasted to celebrate. Then the family whose children had been picked would go home in silence and grieve for their loss.

I looked up at the stage and I saw three chairs. One is occupied by Effie Trinket. The Capitol woman has pink hair this year, no doubt a wig. Her pale face is plastered with eye, cheek, and lip makeup. She wears a green suit-like dress that clashes with the pink hair and makeup. Her appearance would be amusing under different circumstances. The second chair was filled by Mayor Undersee. He is a tall and balding man. He has a daughter in the same grade as me. The only reason I notice her is because she is the only person besides Gale that Katniss is around. The third chair is supposed to be occupied by District 12's victor. The only victor still alive is Haymitch Abernathy. He won the Hunger Games twenty-four years ago, and ever since then he's been a drunk. I'm not surprised by his absence.

I look around the crowd and my eyes land on Katniss. She looks so beautiful. She dressed in a pale blue dress and her usual dark braid is wrapped around her head. Her grey eyes are looking across the crowd too. They don't meet mine, but Gale's instead. He stands a few rows in front of me Jealousy pangs in my chest for the second time today. My attention is then demanded by Mayor Undersee who has just started the reaping.

The mayor begins the ceremony by listing off the past victors. There are only two, and as he reads off Haymitch's name it is like the mayor has summoned him. Haymitch is on the stage now. He is shouting something unintelligible, and he takes his place in the third chair. He is welcomed by a loud applause from the audience. In response, he leans over and tries to give Effie Trinket a big hug, but she escapes his arms quickly. The crowed gives a hardy laugh, and even I chuckle a bit, but the mayor face is full of embarrassment. The reaping is televised throughout the whole country of Panem, and District 12 is now the laughingstock of the districts. The mayor quickly attempt to change the situation by introducing Effie Trinket.

"Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be _ever_ in your favor." She goes on talking about the same things she does every year, but I'm not listening anymore. My eyes are back on Katniss. She's looking at Gale. There is worry in her eyes. Gale smiles at her briefly, but it doesn't last long as his face hardens and grows dark. He's worried as well. He looks back up at the stage, and my attention is drawn as well.

Effie Trinket coughs and begins to speak again. "Ladies' first!" She crosses the stage where the glass ball with all of the girls' names is. She reaches in until she grasps a slip of paper. The crowd has become so silent that you could hear a pin drop. She crosses back over the to the mic in the center of the stage, and unfolds the piece of paper.

"Not Katniss," I whisper, "not Katniss." Effie Trinket reads the name out loud, and it's not Katniss.

"Primrose Everdeen."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Here's chapter 2. It's not at good as chapter 1, but I promise that as the story goes on, it will get much better! Thank you so much for reading! Again, feel free to review! I do not own the Hunger Games. I'm just a huge fan! Enjoy!**

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><p>Chapter 2-<p>

"Primrose Everdeen," Effie Trinket's voice was filled with too much enthusiasm as she called the twelve year old girl's name. From the crowd you could hear the grumbles of the few people of the district who took bets on whose name was going to be call. Nobody likes when a twelve year old is called. It's just unfair. Everyone except for the Capital knows that. As Prim starts to walk up to the stage, I look over that Katniss. I wonder if she's breathing or not. Prim is everything to her. Everyone knows that. Even I know that, and she doesn't even speak to me.

Prim is almost at the stage when Katniss pushes out from the crowd of girls. She places herself in front of her younger sister, and she says what I both dreaded and knew she was going to say.

"I volunteer!" Her voice is desperate and frantic. Afraid that she wasn't heard she repeats herself, in a calmer, but equally as desperate way. "I volunteer as tribute." That was the moment my heart sank. I had to swallow to keep from throwing up. My mind is racing. I hear Effie Trinket try to make sense of the situation. Under the sound of her voice over the mic, the crowd mutters. Volunteers are very rare in District 12. From what I can remember from the few volunteer situations I've seen on television the rule is that once a boy or a girl is chosen another eligible boy or girl can take their place.

In other districts where children are raised to be a part of the games the volunteer rule can get complicated, but what Katniss did is almost unthinkable in District 12. Effie Trinket goes on about the rules when Mayor Undersee speaks up.

"What does it matter?" Effie looks stunned, but what I am more concerned about is the look in the mayor eyes. He seems hurt. "What does it matter?" his voice is rough when he repeats himself. "Let her come forward." As soon as Katniss pushes forward to the stage, Prim begins to scream. She's wrapped herself around her older sister.

"No. Katniss! No! You can't go!" Prim's desperate screams can be heard throughout the crowd. Katniss turns her head slightly, making sure not to make eye contact with her sister and seems to say something nobody can hear. Her eyes seem glosser than before. Surely she's holding in her tears, but Katniss has never been one to show weakness. Now is no different than when she just stood there taking my mother's harsh words. Gale steps forward from the crowd as well to pull Prim off of Katniss. Prim's screams just get louder and more intense. Gale gives Katniss one last look before carrying Prim off across the crowd. His eyes are full of fear. Effie Trinket, still overly excited for this whole ordeal, asks Katniss for her name, and after Katniss answers she continues.

"I bet my buttons that was your sister. Don't want her to steal all the glory, do we?" Effie Trinket says with a grin. "Come on, everybody! Let's give a big round of applause to our newest tribute!" She raised her arms encouraging us to cheer. Nobody in the crowd clapped, and I felt enraged. It is not a glory being tribute. I wish I could say it out loud. I would if I wasn't biting my lip so hard, trying to stay strong. The silence stuck around longer. How could they clap? Everyone in District 12 either knew Prim, Katniss, or their father personally. Clapping would show approval. Today everyone in District 12 would be grieving for Katniss.

One by one everyone in the crowd put their three middle fingers on their lips. The movement caught throughout the crowd and soon my fingers were on my lips also. In unison, everyone lifted their hands to Katniss. This gesture has long been discouraged to be used. It is a sign usually held during funerals. It means thanks, it means admiration, it means good-bye to someone you love. Just as the silence came it was taken away by Haymitch. He got up from his chair and stammered to Katniss. He threw his arm around her and continued to shout, "Look at her. Look at this one!" His force seems to be crushing Katniss under his arm. "I like her! Lots of…" He pauses searching for the right word, "Spunk!" As the last word he let go of Katniss and walks to the front of the stage. "More than you!" He's pointing at the cameras while shouting this. "More than you!"

Before Haymitch could continue what he was saying, he falls off the stages and lays in dirt unconscious. All the camera crews focus on him, but I focus my eyes on Katniss. She seems to be shifting. Her face before was braves, but it was also worried and nervous. Not now though. Now she looks cold and hard. Her expression is blank, and she stares off into the distance. I can no longer read her face. As I look away from Katniss, Haymitch is on a stretcher. He is taken away and Effie Trinket starts up again.

"What an exciting day!" She straightens her pink wig and continues. "But more excitement to come! It's time to choose our boy tribute. She trots over to the glass ball and grasps a slip of paper for a second time. Then she walks back over to the mic. She unfolds the piece of paper, and I am not prepared for the name I hear.

"Peeta Mellark." Effie Trinket smiles as she reads off my name. I got deaf. I can see people's lips moving, but I can't hear them. Everyone around me looks at me. They say goodbye with their eyes, and I slowly make my way up to the stage wishing I was as brave as Katniss had been walking up the stage. My heart is beating so loud that I swear everyone can hear it. Katniss' eyes flicker towards me once I am on the stage. I stand there waiting as Effie Trinket asks if there are any volunteers. I look towards Dylan who is in the front row; he catches my eyes and looks away quickly. I knew he wasn't going to volunteer for me, but I was hoping for some kind of encouragement. I look into the crowd and see my father. His hands are in fists, and I probably look the same way as he does right now. Scared. My mother stands next to him. She is emotionless. I've never been her favorite son, and in her eyes I'm the weakest one of her sons. She's expecting me to die, but I still love her.

My heart beat is still loud in my ears, and I don't hear the mayor continue the ceremony. My mind is on the games. One thing I am sure of is that I'm going to die. The second thing I am sure of is I'm going to make sure Katniss survives. She has so much more to come home to than I. Her family needs her. I would just come home to family who barely likes me now except for my father. I'm going to have to let go of him. He'll be proud to watch me protect Katniss.

The mayor finishes the last part of the ceremony and pushes Katniss and I together so we can shake hands. Her hand is in mine, and I never want to let go. Despite how much work she does, they are still soft. I give her hand a squeeze before releasing it. My heart is still beating loudly in my ears as the Panem anthem plays. We turn and walk towards the Justice Building. My mind is focused. I need to get Katniss to trust me, so I can protect her. This will be hard. She'll be expecting me to be trying to kill her. I thought the odds were in my favor and they weren't, but I'll make sure they are in hers.


End file.
